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“I’m really uncomfortable talking to you about this,” I say, shifting my gaze to the ceiling.
“Whatever. Like I said, tomorrow morning. And you better fucking make him happy and not turn out to be a psycho or I’m seriously going to regret playing peacemaker.”
I shift my gaze back to him, brows furrowed with curiosity. “Whydidyou decide to play peacemaker? No offense but you’re not the most diplomatic person in the world.”
“Why the fuck would that offend me?” he asks, a dismayed expression crossing his face. “I’m here because my Dad’s miserable without you. And also coming back to swoop in and save the day here was a good reason to get out of LA. Certain people were starting to get clingy.” I arch a curious brow at him but he just shrugs. “Guess I’ll see you around, Deacon.” He pauses for a moment to scan his eyes up and down my body…very slowly. Then he shakes his head, offering a wry smirk. “I was going to offer a commiseration fuck If things didn’t work out after all, but given what I know about you and my dad, I have a feeling we wouldn’t be a good fit.”
I just blink at him. “Um…okay…”
Before I can decide whether I’m supposed to thank him for what I think amounts to consideration where Jazz is concerned, he turns out of the doorway and disappears down the hall.
CHAPTER26
TANNER
Ilove spending the weekends with my daughter, but on this occasion I’m grateful to Jazz for taking her for a fun brother-sister day and a sleepover tonight. It’ll be good for them to have some time together after Jazz’s time away in Los Angeles, and it leaves me free to mope about as much as I want without worrying about upsetting Izzy.
I feel completely pathetic with the way I’ve fallen apart since things ended with Deacon. I’m so angry with myself about not being more upfront with him; maybe it wasn’t necessary at the start, but our relationship became much more than casual sex and he deserved my honesty. I don’t want to make excuses for myself, but I think I grew so used to Deacon being my haven from all the stressors and triggers in my life that I didn’t want to do anything to change it. But now the haven’s gone and self-imploded.
About an hour after Jazz leaves with Izzy, I hear the front doorbell ringing. I let out a groan and consider just ignoring it so I can continue with my moping while I watch this five-part documentary series on the French Revolution—watching re-enactments of people getting their heads sliced off is helping to put certain things in perspective. But the bell rings again and I know I can’t just sit here and pretend not to be home. It might be RJ with something important, or Piper might have forgotten her key.
I get up from the sofa and make my way through the house to the front door. When I yank it open, I’m shocked to see Deacon standing on the top step.
I stare at him in shock, unable to stop myself from drinking him in like I’m dying of thirst. He looks incredible, dressed in dark jeans, a gray t-shirt that clings to his torso, and a snug-fitting black leather jacket. All I want to do is drag him inside and strip him bare. But, of course, I manage to restrain myself.
“I guess Jazz didn’t tell you I’d be coming over?” he asks tentatively. His expression is wary, and I notice lines of exhaustion on his face—I wonder if the last few nights have been as sleepless for him as they have been for me.
My brows shoot up at his words. “You met Jazz?”
“So he didn’t tell you he was coming to talk to me either?” he asks, one eyebrow quirked.
I let out a breath of amusement, shaking my head. “No. But I shouldn’t be surprised. That boy’s always been a law unto himself.”
Deacon nods knowingly. “Yep, I got that impression.”
I step back and wave a hand toward the front hallway. “Do you want to come in?”
To my immense relief, he steps inside and closes the door behind him.
“He explained some things to me,” Deacon says.
“What kind of things?” I ask warily. Fuck, what the hell did Jazz say to him? Knowing my son it could be anything from death threats to pick-up lines. Or maybe both.
Deacon’s eyes find mine, his gaze soft and tinged with regret. “Things I should have given you a chance to explain for yourself the other night. I’m sorry.”
I’m completely blown away. Both by the fact that Jazz actually confronted Deacon in an attempt to fix things between the two of us—or at least that’s how it appears right now—and that Deacon is apologizing to me. I shake my head. “You have every right to be angry with me, Deacon. I should have been more honest with you.”
“I can understand why you weren’t,” he says, voice gentle. “It’s a really complicated situation and this thing is still really new, and we’re still building trust—”
I reach a hand out to close over his, cutting him off. I’m feeling a little encouraged that he’s talking in the present tense, but I need to correct his assumption. “It wasn’t about trust, Deacon. I do trust you—completely. It’s just…” I glance away, drawing in a breath before returning my gaze to his. “I didn’t want to bring all of my shit into what we have. When we’re together, all I have to think about is you, and how happy I am when I’m with you. And I didn’t want to lose that. So I guess you could say I was using you…as a little getaway island, I guess. But that wasn’t my intention, and I’m sorry.”
I’m expecting him to turn around and walk straight for the door, but instead he moves toward me. Before I can even register what’s happening, he’s only inches away, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks. He rests his forehead against mine, our skin searing hot as our breath mingles together.
“Deacon…”
“I’ll be your getaway island,” he murmurs. “I’m happy to be. Just call me St Martz.”
I let out a soft laugh, my lips splitting into a grin.
